


Is this really allowed?

by FanRulerJynx



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, He/Him Pronouns For Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, M/M, Mentioned Elias Bouchard, No beta we kayak like Tim, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Post-Season/Series 01 AU, They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, tim and sasha are great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanRulerJynx/pseuds/FanRulerJynx
Summary: There has never been anyone before Jonathan Sims because he has always existed.It doesn’t matter if his grandmother, and old peers, and old teachers, and everyone knew someone named—No. It doesn’t matter.---An exploration of Jon figuring who he is after he thought he already knew who he was.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Tim Stoker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 125





	Is this really allowed?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, so this is a projection but still valid. <3
> 
> Overall, this is the idea that once someone finds who they are, they go through everything that they want to so that they can achieve who they are are show it. But then find out, this may not be true. This does have some references that can come across as offensive and I do not mean that. There are some lines that may seem as though he is invalidating people or are forcing stereotypes upon certain gender identities. I do not agree with this but to understand what Jon is going through they still think these thoughts. 
> 
> If this is offensive to you or triggering then I implore you not to read but I promise that Jon learns. Something bad thoughts are had and bad choices are made to understand the world around you and you yourself.

Jon. Jonathan. Jonathan Sims.

This is who he is. This is what they all know him as. This is what he wants them to know him as. Any hit of something else will turn the tide and that trust will be lost – again – and then he’ll be back to who he was.

So, no. There has never been anyone before Jonathan Sims, because he has always existed. 

It doesn’t matter if his grandmother, and old peers, and old teachers, and everyone knew someone named—

No. It doesn’t matter. 

There always has been and always will be Jon and that is what matters and it may be a good thing he never made childhood friends and his grandmother passed right before he left for university so he never had to explain why letters kept coming from schools addressed to Jon and not—

Yes, it is a shame he has no one to recount his childhood with except himself but that hardly matters because he is lucky to have friends, to have a boyfriend, to share his side of his childhood with. That is all that matters.

So, he is not going to crack that all with these foolish wants and he will keep his eye forward and lock these thoughts away.

With that thought solid in his mind he kept walking past the windowpane full of skirts and dresses, all on sale with a store-closing event.

He will not push his luck at this point in his life.

\------------------------------

“-ss? Boss? Can you hear me? There you are! Where did you go? I’ll have to tell, hey! Martin! All I did was walk in and I made him speechless!”

“Yes, yes I saw that. Jon, are you okay?”

“You know the rules Tim, last to show up pays the first round!”

“Yeah, whatever, it was worth, just for that reaction! Sasha, come help me pick out the snacks to go with it.”

Sasha smiled and rose from the table that the three of them had been sat at while waiting for Tim. She cast a meaningful glance to Martin who was whispering into Jon’s ear, likely about whatever had just happened, and walked off to join the extroverted man.

“Jon, talk to me, is this too much? You have been doing so well getting out of your flat recently but if it’s ever too much we can spend the night in.”

“…I’m fine. Really. I just,” Jon stopped for a moment. There was no way he could explain to Martin that seeing Tim show up to their Friday night drinks in a skirt made him want to—

Something. He honestly wasn’t even sure what it made him. Jealous? Jealous that Tim was able to enjoy a part of the world that he would never be able to? Sadness that he was for once thriving in his life but was still wanting more?

No, there was nothing to say. So, he wouldn’t say anything. He clutched his cane close to himself, rubbing the handle of it. A nervous force of habit for him.

“No, I’m really fine Martin. It was just, my leg acted up and I was not expecting it.”

“Oh! Well, uh, do you want me to get you something? I think I still have those hot packs in my bag…yes! Here you are!”

Martin was smiling so happily. Joyed that he was able to be able to help Jon with his nonexistent pain (although yes it does always hurt, it’s just a more manageable pain). He doesn’t deserve him. Someone so loyal and trusting and he knows that Martin will listen and try to understand but that’s not the point! He shouldn’t want this; he made his choice and this is how he has to live with it.

“Thank you, Martin.” He cracked and twisted the pack to start heating up and rested it on his knee. He tentatively reached his other out to Martin who gladly took it with a large smile.

“We don’t need to stay too long if you want or need to leave early just let me know.”

“I will. Thank you, Martin.” He squeezed his hand and turned back to his coworkers walking over with four vastly different drinks and the largest bowl of nachos he has ever seen.

\--------------------------------

He stood in front of his mirror in the bathroom. If he stood on the lip of his bathtub, he could see his full body but even with his cane that was not worth the risk and anyways, that was not the point.

He could see the two scars under his pecs. He gently traced them with one finger. Not in a sensual way. He didn’t even know he was doing it until he started tracing them back. 

This was his commitment. He saved up for years. He planned his work and school around this. He timed it just perfect with his changing of all his legal documents. He chose this and he knows that he chose right. But it still felt that he chose wrong sometimes. Like he should have taken another option. Not that there was one.

If given the opportunity he would never do something different. But that doesn’t mean he can’t fantasize about what could have been as well. He could still be wearing those flowing tops. He could still feel the soft material on his shaved legs. He could paint his face, his eyes, his lips. He could cover some of his scars.

But he made this decision and to do anything against it would change how the others think of him and he could not live without them. Now that he has them, he is never letting go. 

He slides on his sweatshirt, it's actually Martin’s but at this point who cares, turns away from his mirror and starts working on a statement he took from work and wanted to do some extra research on.

He kept drifting off in thoughts though, not able to focus on the words and notes in front of him. This is not the first time but this is the first time that it has happened when he could not even place what he wanted to be thinking about – or doing.

He finally switched tabs on his laptop, opened incognito mode and posed his hands to type. He may or may not have looked around his empty flat before typing. He knows that he lives alone and that Martin or Georgie is not over but the psychical movement still helped to reassure him.

Men in skirts

He finger was resting on the enter key until he could work up the nerve to press it. Quickly he was presented with images of men on different red-carpet events, Pinterest pages, and home photography of, well, men in skirts.

Jon was enraptured. He knew that it happened, hell, he saw Tim wearing one last week. He went to university; he was in a steampunk band. He knew that this happened but to see so many different men wearing them – well it was fascinating.

He spent the rest of the night until early morning looking at different pages of this. Men, women, boys, girls. So many different people in beautiful skirts, dresses, blouses, kilts, trousers, heels, more clothing that he was unsure of the names of even.

But then, there was a word. He thinks he may have heard of it before but if so, he didn’t understand it so he just never really took note of it.

Genderqueer.

He called in sick for the first time since working at the Magnus Institute the next day.

He tried to ignore how smug Elias sounded when he called in. It was to the point he just said he would not be coming in and Elias, the smug bastard, just said that he would transfer over his sick pay immediately, “Just in case you need to pick up a few things to help you feel better.”

He hung up and went back to his laptop, possibly forgetting to text his boyfriend-slash-coworker that he wouldn’t be in that day.

\---------------------------------------

Jon, you okay? Your never late to work and I just wanted to check on you ^_^

Okay, you’re an hour late, what’s going on? Did you sleep in?

If you don’t respond in the next 5 mins I’m coming to your place Jon. You have us all worried

I’m fine. Don’t come over.

Okay well, thanks for responding but that honestly just tells me that your not like kidnapped or something. Do you want me to come over?

Honestly, yes, he did. He wanted to sit and talk to his partner about these new ideas and words and thoughts and expressions. But how could he just drop this on him when he doesn’t even know that he is trans to begin with.

God, he doesn’t know that he’s ace too. He doesn’t know any of this because even Georgie doesn’t know because he met her after surgery and T. She knows about the asexual part, but since they never got naked in the time, they were together there was nothing to see. To find out about.

No, I’m fine. Just a head cold and slept in. I’ll be there tomorrow. I don’t want to pass anything to you, or Tim and Sasha. 

As an afterthought, Thank you though Martin. 

A hasty reply, was he just sat there texting?

Okay I trust you. Just please let me know. If anything, I can drop something off outside your door. Love you <3

I love you too Martin.

Jon doesn’t deserve Martin. He really doesn’t. With his trusting tendencies and love and openness and willing to adjust.

And here he is, being selfish by not being able to even know who he is. 

Jon set his phone aside, took a long breath and went back to what he does best, researching.

With all these different terms and words, he has found the one that he kept being drawn back to was ‘genderqueer’. It was open enough to mean loads to different people but could still be easy enough to define in one specific way, depending on how they felt.

He was reading testimonies (statements) of these different people. It was, different. These were not horrific stories, admittedly some with the treatment they got from purposive friends and family it could be. These were, nice to read. He did not relate to them all, but he understood the same struggles some of these people were going through.

Some people who knew right from adolescence that they were not cis, some people well into their life and only then starting to question who they were. People who were able to openly experiment and express. And some who could only fantasize about the person that they wanted to be.

The ones that really stuck were those who, for years thought they were one gender, wither cis or not. Only to realize that they were somewhere outside of the ‘normal’ gender boundaries. They were non-binary.

Jon thought back to his old band. He knew they were a mix of different genders and pronouns and he was just happy to be him that it never occurred that maybe that was not exactly correct. Or at least, not always correct.

These were people who were in different stages of transitioning, ages, life milestones. They could wear whatever clothing, have whatever makeup, use whatever combination (or maybe even none at all!) of pronouns.

He was, pretty sure that this was him. Or at least, that this was the him that was now.

This was the part where Jon could work with. He could plan. He could decide where to get clothing and makeup from that he could remain unknown. He could plan what days and how to progress wearing those items as time wears on. He could plan when to tell Martin.

This is where he paused. When should he tell Martin? Should it be before all of this as to not surprise him? Or should he wait until he wears something so noticeable that it can’t remain unspoken about?

No, he could wait. If he made any comments or showed that this may be too much for him then he could back off, have a laugh and pretend that this never happened.

If Martin didn’t like this then he could live with that if it meant they could stay together. Afterall, now that he knew who he was, did it really matter if he expressed it? 

(yes)

\------------------------------------------------------------

He started with mascara. It was easy enough (he was happy to find out that he still had his old makeup tricks memorized from his stage makeup band days).

He was nervous walking in a few days later but brushed it aside trying to appear confident. And act as though nothing was different with him. He thinks he was doing pretty good, but seeing as he would always arrive before his assistances’ and was therefore the only one there it was kind of a moot point.

When he heard the three of them walking in together around a half-hour later, he made sure to sit up straighter, he checked his eyes and hair and pretended to look busy when Martin walked in.

“Good morning Junebug, how are you doing?”

“I’m well, I actually got some rest last night. That tea you got me seemed to actually help.” He confessed this with a small smile that grew wider at seeing his partner smile.

“That’s great to hear! I’ll have to stock up on them, both at my place and for yours!”

They kept chatting for a while, pretending they did not both already text each other earlier in the day until Martin spoke up.

“Oh! I’ll let you get back to work now. Just,” At this he swooped in for a quick kiss on Jon’s check and then continued in a low voice, “I’m not sure what you did but your eyes are really standing out. They’re beautiful as ever.”

At this, as though he didn’t just blow Jon’s mind, he gave a small wave and walked out of his office, leaving the door ajar as always.

Jon sat back in his seat, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. That went, honestly as well as he could have hoped for! He’s not sure if Martin was just being nice at the mascara or if he really didn’t know he was wearing it but either way this was the encouragement that Jon needed.

This led to Job slowly enacting his plan. He was intergrading different styles and looks as time went on. More makeup, different hairstyles, more expressive fashion choices. Never new clothing types though, he was not ready to publicly do that yet. There were a few hiccups, mainly when Jon lost his nerve, was too tired to adhere to his plan, some off-coloured comments were made either about him or towards his exploration.

These comments never seemed actually aimed at him, to his knowledge no one even knew what he was doing. Except maybe Elias. But he really couldn’t be bothered to care about what his strange boss thought.

No, these comments actually never seemed to come from people he cared about, just random people on the tube, on the bus, at the coffee shoppe he liked. Some whispered words, second glances, complete glares from others. The most anyone he actually liked ever said was Sasha or Tim saying he would look better in another colour or style – which was honestly always true.

Martin seemed to always notice when he did something new and would always smile and compliment him. Jon was pretty sure he was just trying to encourage him in hopes of keeping Jon out of a self-destructive depressive episode again. He couldn’t accept that Martin’s comments could mean more than that.

While he had over the course of the past few months only been using makeup outside, he had started to acquire some new clothing. He had worn them around his flat, getting used to the feel. The heels were the most difficult of them all but soon enough he figured them out. 

The hardest part was walking with his cane, seeing as it was not made for him at that height. His follow-up thought was that if he wore them with Martin, they could link arms and Martin could be his anchor and crutch. He may have immediately tripped after having that thought.

He kept these all, folded neatly into a box in the back of his closet. Not the most unique hiding spots but he didn’t exactly have guests over enough to really worry about it. His friends knew that he liked his privacy and would not go through his things. Surprisingly, even Tim followed this rule. At least, only when it came to his home, not his office.

It was a rainly afternoon that his box was discovered. By Martin of all people. All or nothing apparently.

They were staying in that day, Jon’s knee acting up too much for him to really want to go anywhere and Martin took that day to pamper his boyfriend. Letting Jon choose the movies they wtched, constantly making him tea and cocoa, back massages, everything.

Eventally Jon became suspisous enough to bring it up.

“Okay Martin, you have been acting far too, sweet I guess, today. What’s going on? What do you want?”

Martin’s freckled face started to blush as his hands moved around in nervousness.

“Can’t I just treat you to a you-day? You deserve it with all the stress you have been under!”

“…”

“…I found your box…” It was a whispered confession and honestly confused Jon at first.

“My, my box? What box?” He was trying to think of what Martin could be talking of. The day of being treated so kindly had made him forget about his somewhat shameful container in his closest.

“The uh, the one in the back of your closest…the one with all the clothing and shoes.”

Jon froze. He was not ready to have this conversation. He was going to wait another month (that was a lie, he knew that it was unlikely he would ever willingly have this conversation).

“O-oh, uh, yes…”

“I uh, also found your makeup? Well, I didn’t really find it, they were in the same cabinet that you keep my contact solution in. So, I guess that’s not much of a surprise haha…Jon? Jon! Okay just breath, your fine. Can I touch you?”

It was then that Martin realized how pale Jon’s dark skin turned and how quickly he was breathing. He was having a panic attack. 

With Jon’s nod and honestly despite grab at Martin. He led him though a breathing exercise until Jon seemed to be able to work alone again. They sat there, Jon practically on Martin’s lap, Martin rubbing soothing touches on Jon’s back while humming softly to keep Jon in the moment.

“Jon, are you back with me?” A hesitant nod.

“Are you able to talk? Do you want to talk?”

“…honestly no. But I think we should.”

“Okay, right, um, that’s good! Where-where do you want to start?” He was still rubbing his back and Jon had taken Martin’s other hand and was slowly tracing invisible lines on it. To avoid eye-contact.

“I’m genderqueer.”

Martin blinked. He didn’t think they were going to jump into it that quickly but like everything Jon did he wanted it to be as quick and efficient as possible.

“Okay. That’s fine. Were you planning on wearing those clothes then?”

At this, Jon quickly stood up from Martin’s lap and turned to face him. Martin, once more, blinked in surprise.

“‘okay’? ‘that’s okay’? What do you mean ‘that’s okay’? I just told you that I’m not a man and you just say ‘okay’?!” He was pacing back and forth now, not seeming to really be talking to Martin at this point.

“I mean that’s okay? Should it not be okay?” At Jon’s stare with this question Martin threw his hands up in surrender.

“Love, I really don’t know what you want me to say! I mean it, that’s okay. I’m in love with you and that means I love you for who you are. If you’re not a man then I love you. If you’re not a woman then I love you. If you’re not anything else then I love you. I really mean it.”

Tears were welling up in Jon’s eyes through this statement. Martin opened his arms and Jon crashed into them, curling up and relishing at being held by his boyfriend.

“Do you really mean that?”

A kiss was place on Jon’s forehead. “I do. I do have a few questions but none of the answers will make me want to leave okay? I promise.”

Jon tucked his face into Martin’s neck and told him to ask away.

They talked for a long while that night. Jon had a lot on his mind that he word-vomited out. Rants, thoughts, opinions, questions, uncertainties.

Martin listened. He asked questions, clarifications. He had opinions and thoughts too. None negative, just things that he learned from his time in the world as well.

They explored pronouns, terms, introductions, names. They cried and laughed and gave Jon hope.

It was a long night, but a night that was needed to happen.

\-----------------------------------------------

That next week Jon walked in with a skirt. It was a formal one, tucked into a button-down with a belt, leggings, and a light jacket.

This time, Jon arrived a few minutes after their assistances would already be there. That way, they could get this done all at once.

They walked down the hallway, messenger bag dangling from their shoulders and entered the archives.

Martin, Tim, and Sasha were sat at their desks, all looking at their nameplates that normally sat at the front of their desks with confusion. Tim was the first one to notice that Jon walked in. He didn’t even bat an eye.

“Boss! Looks like the big boss got use all new nameplates.”

“Did someone put in a request for a new one?”

Sasha replied, “None of us did, Martin said you didn’t either.”

“Well, what’s so special about the plates?” They reached over, trying to look at Martins plate who was closer to them. Martin quickly pulled his back, pressing the front of it to his shirt and smiled. Jon narrowed their eyes.

“Martin…”

“Boss! Go look at yours! I think I know what it’ll say.”

Jon turned to look at Tim who was now also smiling at them. Jon was starting to worry at being the punchline of a prank but the kind was both Sasha and Tim were looking at Jon made them accept their fate and walk into their office.

Jon sat down, and reached towards their nameplate that was sat facing away from them on their desk.

Jonathan Sims  
Head Archivist  
They/Them

Jon sat it back down and made eye-contact with Martin outside their door. Martin raised his hands, still not knowing what was going on but smiled nonetheless at his partner.

Jon sat back in their chair. They still were uneasy with their boss somehow knowing this and knowing the exact day they were going to come out but just accepted that this was part of working at the Magnus Institute.

Maybe life wasn’t too awful after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to add what Tim, Sasha, and Martin had on their plates but I'll leave that up to your own headcanons. I hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
